Chapter 12 #2
Her hands came up to my chest, fingers splaying wide against my wet skin.
I felt the heat of her palms, the slight tremor in her touch.
She kissed me back with a desperation that matched my own.
Her mouth opened wider, her tongue meeting mine stroke for stroke.
There was no hesitation, no awkwardness in the way my tusks bracketed her lips.
Just the rightness of her mouth against mine, her body adjusting to fit me like we'd been made for this.
I groaned into her mouth. Slid one hand into her damp hair, fisting it gently to hold her exactly where I wanted her. My other hand found the small of her back, pulling her flush against me. The thick robe was a barrier I wanted gone.
Thunder rumbled outside, closer now.
"Ripplan," she breathed against my lips when I pulled back just enough to let her breathe. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Her lips were already swollen, slick from my mouth.
"Tell me you don't want this," I said roughly, my voice barely recognizable. "Tell me to leave, and I will."
She stared up at me. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her breath coming in short gasps. Her hands were still on my chest, and I could feel her pulse racing under my fingertips where I held her jaw.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't tell you that."
A flash through the windows illuminated her face. I saw desire there. Need. The same hunger that was tearing through me.
That was all I needed.
I bent and lifted her into my arms. She gasped, her arms flying around my neck automatically, her body pressing against mine. She was soft and warm and perfect, and I wanted her so badly I could barely think straight.
I carried her toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. She buried her face against my neck, her breath hot against my skin.
"Ripplan, are you sure about this?"
"Which room?" My voice was rough. Strained.
"The one on the left. But we should talk about what this means. What we're doing."
"We're fucking," I grunted. "Enough talking."
I kicked the door open. Her bedroom was small and neat, the bed covered in a thick quilt. Rain hammered against the windows, the sound filling the space.
I set her down beside the bed, but I didn't let go. Couldn't let go. My hands slid down her arms, feeling the goosebumps rising on her skin.
"I need to—" I stopped. Crossed to the windows and threw them open. Wind and rain rushed in immediately, bringing the smell of wet earth and ozone. The temperature dropped, cold air mixing with the warmth of the room. A flash illuminated everything in stark white light.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice breathless.
"Letting the storm in." I turned back to her. "I want to feel it. Want you to feel it."
She stood by the bed, her robe still belted tight, her hair wild around her face. The wind caught it, lifting the dark strands. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted.
She was so damn lovely it hurt to look at her.
I crossed to her in three strides. Caught the belt of her robe and pulled slowly, deliberately. The knot came undone. The fabric fell open, revealing smooth skin and soft curves. The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips.
"Ripplan—"
I kissed her again. Deeper this time. Slower. Taking my time to taste every inch of her mouth, to learn the shape of her lips, the way she sighed when I sucked gently on her bottom lip. My hands slid inside her robe, pushing it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a whisper of fabric.
She shivered, from the cold air rushing through the windows or from my touch, I wasn't sure.
"Cold?" I murmured against her mouth.
"No." Her voice was shaky. "Not cold."
I ran my hands down her sides, feeling the softness of her skin, the way she trembled under my touch. She was perfect. Every curve, every line. I wanted to memorize all of it.
Her hands fumbled with the button on my jeans. I helped her, my fingers covering hers, guiding them. The button came free. The zipper rasped down. I shoved the wet denim down my hips and kicked it off.
Thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to rattle the windows.
"I've been dreaming about this," I said roughly, my mouth moving to her jaw, her throat. "Every night. The taste of you. The sounds you made."
"You remember." It wasn't a question. Her head fell back, giving me access to the long line of her throat. I kissed my way down, tasting rain and skin and something uniquely her.
"Every second." I nipped at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, and she gasped. "The way you said my name. The way you came apart under my tongue."
"Ripplan, I thought you didn't remember."
"I remember." I backed her toward the bed. She went willingly, her legs hitting the edge. "And I want it again. All of it."
A flash, and in that brief moment of illumination, I saw her face. Flushed and wanting and perfect.
Then we were on the bed. She pulled me down on top of her, her legs parting to make room for me. The feel of her skin against mine, soft and warm and alive, made my head spin.
I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring it. Her mouth. Her jaw. The hollow of her throat. I worked my way down, tasting every inch of skin I could reach. She arched under me, her hands clutching at my shoulders, my back.
"You're so beautiful," I murmured against her collarbone.
"Ripplan, please—"
"Please what?" I looked up at her. Her eyes were dark, her lips parted. "Tell me what you want."
"You." Her voice broke. "I want you."
Thunder rolled through the room, the sound vibrating in my chest. Rain poured through the open windows, misting over us. The storm was inside now, surrounding us, becoming part of this.
I moved lower, my mouth finding the swell of her breast. She gasped, her back arching as I kissed the soft skin there, teasing. Her hands tightened in my hair, urging me on.
I took her nipple into my mouth, and she cried out. A sound that went straight through me. I sucked gently at first, then harder, my tongue circling the peaked flesh. Her taste, the feel of her, it was everything I'd remembered in those fever dreams and more.
"Ripplan—" My name was a broken plea on her lips.
I lavished attention on one breast, then the other, kissing and sucking until she was writhing beneath me. Her skin was flushed, rain-misted, perfect. I could feel her heart racing under my mouth, could hear every gasp and moan.
"I dreamed about this," I murmured against her skin. "About having you like this."
Her fingers traced the ridges along my shoulders, my back. "I dreamed about it too," she whispered. "Every night."
I kissed my way down her body, taking my time. Her ribs, the soft skin of her belly. She was trembling, her breath coming in short gasps. When I reached the apex of her thighs, she made a sound. Half plea, half prayer.
"Oh God—"
I settled between her thighs, breathing in the scent of her arousal. That intoxicating sweetness mixed with something darker, muskier, uniquely hers. My mouth watered. Every instinct I had roared at me to claim her, to mark her, to make her understand that she was mine in every possible way.
"I've been thinking about this," I said roughly, my breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. "About tasting you again. About making you come on my tongue."
She whimpered, her hips lifting slightly. "Please—"
I pressed my mouth to her inner thigh first, kissing the soft skin there. She trembled beneath me, her hands fisting in the sheets. I could feel her pulse racing under my lips, could smell how wet she was for me, and it made something primal surge through my chest.
"You're so responsive," I murmured against her skin. "Spread out for me. Wanting me."
"Ripplan, please, I need—" Her voice broke on the words.
I dragged my tongue slowly up her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she needed me most. She made a frustrated sound that went straight to my cock. I did the same to her other thigh, taking my time, savoring every gasp and whimper.
"Tell me what you want," I said, my voice rough with need.
"You know what I want." Her fingers found my hair, tugging. "Stop teasing me."
I looked up at her, meeting her eyes. They were dark with desire, her pupils blown wide. "I want to hear you say it."
Her cheeks flushed deeper, but she held my gaze. "I want your mouth on me. I want you to make me come."
The raw honesty in her voice nearly undid me. "Good girl," I growled, and finally I put my mouth on her.
She cried out, her whole body arching off the bed.
I groaned at the taste of her. Sweet and tangy and absolutely perfect.
I'd remembered this from that fever-hazed night, but the reality was so much better.
I could feel her trembling, could hear every ragged breath, could taste how much she wanted this.
I started slow, dragging my tongue through her folds, learning her all over again.
What made her gasp. What made her moan. What made her hips buck against my mouth.
I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue, then sucked gently, and she made a sound I'd never heard before. Wrecked and needy and utterly undone.
"Oh God, Ripplan—" Her fingers tightened in my hair, holding me exactly where she needed me.
I increased the pressure, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on her clit. She was so responsive, her body telling me exactly what she liked. When I sucked harder, her thighs trembled. When I flicked my tongue just right, she gasped my name like a prayer.
"You taste so fucking good," I murmured against her, the vibration making her whimper. "I could do this for hours. Just worship you with my mouth until you can't remember your own name."
"Don't stop," she begged. "Please don't stop—"